Reclaiming the Sand
Page 10
This time I know she is smiling at me.
4
-Ellie-
I laughed. An honest to god laugh. The hairy body pressed into me, a long, slobbery tongue darting out between black lips.
I nuzzled my face down into the furry neck and let myself smile. This was the only place I let myself do that.
The large dog bounded out of my arms and ran to fetch the rubber toy I had thrown. I grinned like a mad woman as I watched the light brown furry thing shake the toy in his mouth before bringing it back to me and dropping it on the ground at my feet.
“Good boy,” I cooed, scratching a spot behind his floppy ear.
“You should adopt him. You’re the only one he listens to,” a voice said from behind me. My smile dropped but my hand kept scratching the spot behind the dog’s ear.
“I don’t have time for a dog,” I said gruffly, forcing myself to remove my hand from the inviting warmth of fur.
Erin Hoffman, the director of the Wellsburg Animal shelter, gave me a smile that I didn’t return. She was about ten years older than I was and lived for her job. Good for her. I could admit, even to myself, that it would be nice to be dedicated to something…anything…like that.
I rarely said much during my volunteer hours at the shelter. Erin and I had only engaged in minimal exchanges. It’s not like I was there out of the goodness of my heart.
I had been given court ordered community service after getting caught with Stu and Shane vandalizing the old covered bridge outside of town over a year ago. We had been drunk. Stu had convinced us it would be hysterical to spray paint a c**k and balls on the side.
It hadn’t been so funny when the cop car had driven by. And it was even less funny when I had been wearing handcuffs and taken downtown for processing.
I had been put on probation and was given a list of places where I could volunteer in order to “better the community.” My probation officer, Mr. Cox (go ahead and laugh, I did) thought the animal shelter would be a good fit.
“Since you’re not exactly a people person,” he had told me. And he was right. I wasn’t fond of people. Not even the ones I spent time around.
But I liked animals. Always had.
Animals didn’t hurt you. They loved unconditionally. They gave you their heart without expecting anything in return.
I appreciated that.
Erin didn’t push me. She had quickly learned that pushing didn’t get her anywhere with me. This wasn’t the first dog she had tried to foist on me. But this was the first time I had considered taking her up on the suggestion. Murphy, the furry critter in question, pushed his head into my hand, a silent order for me to continue my administrations. I curled my hand into a fist, refusing myself the brief happiness.
Erin rubbed Murphy’s head and his tongue lolled out of his mouth. If I had a heart, he would have made it melt.
“Come on boy, let’s get you back in the cage,” I said, annoyed by Erin’s presence.
“No, don’t put him back yet. He needs more exercise. I just wanted to check on him. You know he’s been here for three months already,” Erin said, not looking at me, her focus on the dog at my feet.
My stomach clenched. “Yeah, I knew that,” I said shortly. I also knew that funding for the shelter was bare bones. Space was limited. And with new animals coming in every day, there was only one thing left to do when dogs and cats weren’t adopted.
“We’re going to need his cage pretty soon,” Erin said, her eyes soft as she watched Murphy bound across the enclosed yard to chase a squirrel.
He had been brought in as a stray. No one ever came to claim him. He’d been tossed aside. Forgotten.
Murphy and I were a lot alike.
The gigantic dog ran back to my side and sat on the ground, pressing himself into my legs, nudging my hand again. I couldn’t help but curl my fingers into the fur at the back of his head.
Erin looked at the two of us. “Just thought you should know,” she said, giving me a sad smile. She gave Murphy a treat and then left us alone.
I looked down at the dog munching happily, unaware of his fate. He had no idea that in a matter of months, weeks maybe, he’d be given an injection to make him go to sleep and he’d never wake up.
A sick part of me was jealous of him. Of his obliviousness. If only I could slip away quietly…ignorantly.
I clipped the leash onto his collar and walked him back to his cage, closing him inside without another glance.
I couldn’t look at him anymore.
Because it hurt.
And I didn’t like hurting.
“You wanna go swimming? It’s going to be in the nineties today,” Dania asked from her perch on top of the counter at JAC’s. I was due to get off in an hour and had planned to go home and finish my college paperwork.
I had hemmed and hawed over the folder that was hidden in my bedside drawer. It was stupid of me to think a few college classes would miraculously make this shit life all better.
But I had been given a taste of something I thought I could never have. At that made it downright irresistible.
What would one class hurt? If it sucked, I could chalk it up to experience and never have to think about it again.
I was prepared to fail. It’s what I did best after all.
Though what if I didn’t fail? What if I did something right, finally? The possibility of succeeding was almost more terrifying than the familiarity of failure.
But the fact that I was thinking about it all indicated a huge shift in my outlook.
I couldn’t pin point the cause of my change. Whether it was a gradual realization or lightning bolt awareness that I wanted something more. I had no idea. But I could remember with vivid clarity, the day it had happened.
4
-Ellie-
I laughed. An honest to god laugh. The hairy body pressed into me, a long, slobbery tongue darting out between black lips.
I nuzzled my face down into the furry neck and let myself smile. This was the only place I let myself do that.
The large dog bounded out of my arms and ran to fetch the rubber toy I had thrown. I grinned like a mad woman as I watched the light brown furry thing shake the toy in his mouth before bringing it back to me and dropping it on the ground at my feet.
“Good boy,” I cooed, scratching a spot behind his floppy ear.
“You should adopt him. You’re the only one he listens to,” a voice said from behind me. My smile dropped but my hand kept scratching the spot behind the dog’s ear.
“I don’t have time for a dog,” I said gruffly, forcing myself to remove my hand from the inviting warmth of fur.
Erin Hoffman, the director of the Wellsburg Animal shelter, gave me a smile that I didn’t return. She was about ten years older than I was and lived for her job. Good for her. I could admit, even to myself, that it would be nice to be dedicated to something…anything…like that.
I rarely said much during my volunteer hours at the shelter. Erin and I had only engaged in minimal exchanges. It’s not like I was there out of the goodness of my heart.
I had been given court ordered community service after getting caught with Stu and Shane vandalizing the old covered bridge outside of town over a year ago. We had been drunk. Stu had convinced us it would be hysterical to spray paint a c**k and balls on the side.
It hadn’t been so funny when the cop car had driven by. And it was even less funny when I had been wearing handcuffs and taken downtown for processing.
I had been put on probation and was given a list of places where I could volunteer in order to “better the community.” My probation officer, Mr. Cox (go ahead and laugh, I did) thought the animal shelter would be a good fit.
“Since you’re not exactly a people person,” he had told me. And he was right. I wasn’t fond of people. Not even the ones I spent time around.
But I liked animals. Always had.
Animals didn’t hurt you. They loved unconditionally. They gave you their heart without expecting anything in return.
I appreciated that.
Erin didn’t push me. She had quickly learned that pushing didn’t get her anywhere with me. This wasn’t the first dog she had tried to foist on me. But this was the first time I had considered taking her up on the suggestion. Murphy, the furry critter in question, pushed his head into my hand, a silent order for me to continue my administrations. I curled my hand into a fist, refusing myself the brief happiness.
Erin rubbed Murphy’s head and his tongue lolled out of his mouth. If I had a heart, he would have made it melt.
“Come on boy, let’s get you back in the cage,” I said, annoyed by Erin’s presence.
“No, don’t put him back yet. He needs more exercise. I just wanted to check on him. You know he’s been here for three months already,” Erin said, not looking at me, her focus on the dog at my feet.
My stomach clenched. “Yeah, I knew that,” I said shortly. I also knew that funding for the shelter was bare bones. Space was limited. And with new animals coming in every day, there was only one thing left to do when dogs and cats weren’t adopted.
“We’re going to need his cage pretty soon,” Erin said, her eyes soft as she watched Murphy bound across the enclosed yard to chase a squirrel.
He had been brought in as a stray. No one ever came to claim him. He’d been tossed aside. Forgotten.
Murphy and I were a lot alike.
The gigantic dog ran back to my side and sat on the ground, pressing himself into my legs, nudging my hand again. I couldn’t help but curl my fingers into the fur at the back of his head.
Erin looked at the two of us. “Just thought you should know,” she said, giving me a sad smile. She gave Murphy a treat and then left us alone.
I looked down at the dog munching happily, unaware of his fate. He had no idea that in a matter of months, weeks maybe, he’d be given an injection to make him go to sleep and he’d never wake up.
A sick part of me was jealous of him. Of his obliviousness. If only I could slip away quietly…ignorantly.
I clipped the leash onto his collar and walked him back to his cage, closing him inside without another glance.
I couldn’t look at him anymore.
Because it hurt.
And I didn’t like hurting.
“You wanna go swimming? It’s going to be in the nineties today,” Dania asked from her perch on top of the counter at JAC’s. I was due to get off in an hour and had planned to go home and finish my college paperwork.
I had hemmed and hawed over the folder that was hidden in my bedside drawer. It was stupid of me to think a few college classes would miraculously make this shit life all better.
But I had been given a taste of something I thought I could never have. At that made it downright irresistible.
What would one class hurt? If it sucked, I could chalk it up to experience and never have to think about it again.
I was prepared to fail. It’s what I did best after all.
Though what if I didn’t fail? What if I did something right, finally? The possibility of succeeding was almost more terrifying than the familiarity of failure.
But the fact that I was thinking about it all indicated a huge shift in my outlook.
I couldn’t pin point the cause of my change. Whether it was a gradual realization or lightning bolt awareness that I wanted something more. I had no idea. But I could remember with vivid clarity, the day it had happened.
